


Divine Judgement

by Xenjn



Category: Tomb Raider & Related Fandoms, Tomb Raider (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath, Character Development?, Cunnlingus, F/F, Fingering, Guilt, Kissing, Lara Croft is a lesbian, Lara x Sofia, Mentions of past Lara/Sam, Porn With Plot, Post Game, Rise of the Tomb Raider, Smut, rottr, some imposter syndrome, these two have so much chemistry and tension its insane, this has all my headcannons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenjn/pseuds/Xenjn
Summary: “I was just thinking…”Quiet, Lara.She tells herself.Quiet, for once in your damn life. Don’t say anything....But the words spill from her regardless, as stubborn and reckless as she’s always been. “I was just thinking, that I’ll miss you.”All at once Sofia sits up, and Lara can only stare at her in the firelight, wanting so badly to kiss her. “You won’t have to miss me, if you stay.”Dammit.
Relationships: Lara Croft/Sofia (Tomb Raider)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 107





	Divine Judgement

**Author's Note:**

> HOOOOOOO BOY. I fucking love these games you guys. I love them. Lara Croft is such a huge lesbian in all of them, and her tension with Sofia is just *chef's kiss*. I can't tell you how many times I've played Rise. Each time I'm filled with head cannons and emotions and so many gay feelings each time these two intense ladies make eye contact. I couldn't stop thinking about it. 
> 
> Then, ya know, this happened. 
> 
> Unbetad. I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Enjoy.

The Divine Source is gone. 

The ancient cathedral is a crumble of scorched Earth and shattered stone. The Prophet, _Jacob,_ the leader of these proud, resilient people _,_ is gone. 

And it is entirely her fault. 

This is all Lara can think of. Those words a constant lingering in the corners of her mind. A shadow denting her thoughts in the night. All of this death and destruction, this chaos and agony, is _her_ responsibility. And all of it can be traced back to a small series of sharp moments. A gunshot, a stolen book, an immortal queen, a child’s desperate search for answers. 

But the agony of her losses pale in comparison to the people of Kitezh. And Lara knows this, it’s the reason why she stays, lingering in the village under the guise of helping. But really she’s just waiting. Waiting for someone, anyone, to hold her accountable for her crimes. And it is desperately impossible to fathom that they never do. They do not demand her penance, they do not throw her in jail, they do not even ask for an apology. Instead they smile at her, _thank_ her when she bloodies her hands on sharpened stone, moving rubble. When she searches for, then drags body after body of Trinity soldiers to mass graves in the countryside. When she bows her head at the countless funerals for the villages dead. 

But there is never enough time to mourn, there is always so much more that must be done.

Lara skins her knees repairing what she can of their homes, she hunts and hunts, piling high the village store houses with fresh meat and leathers. She tills soil and plants crops, although her hands are more suited to killing. Then she thatches rooftops, chases down livestock, instructs on the proper use of liberated Trinity firearms and so on, and so on.

Until the days bleed into weeks, and the embers of rage that burn low beneath her skin beg _endlessly_ to be stoked into a roaring flame. It calls to her to finally leave this place, to continue her hunt. All of her hungering for the destruction of Trinity, for revenge on behalf of the people of Kitezh, on behalf of Jacob, and her father, and even...even Anna. 

But every time she thinks of it, of making the call, chartering a plane, the _debt_ of all she’s done to these people presses down on her, so heavy her knees threaten to give. And she knows there's no leaving until it's been paid.

So now, three weeks in, Lara sits restless, itching beneath her armor before a campfire. Her hands are full of chicken feathers that she plucks, one after the other, from a downed bird while Nadia's grandfather regales his long lost love with all that has passed in the decades since her time lost within the Wicked Vale. 

Lara cannot look at them, cannot look anywhere but the flames. At least until Sofia approaches with powerful footsteps, and thunderous fury in her voice as she reports to Lara that one of the younger girls in the village has gone missing. That the tracks beside where she had been gathering berries are familiar, deep imprints of rubber combat boots.

The idea, the mere thought of what could’ve happened to her has Lara’s heart turning to stone, sinking hard into her stomach. She drops the chicken, cannot see or hear anything but Sofia, those embers of her rage threaten to burn a hole straight through her as she stands, reaching for her bow. “ _Where_?”

\--

After the fall of Anna, Constantine, and the Cathedral, Trinity had not bothered to retrieve their remaining men. An organization such as theirs sees them now as little more than failures, a liability in the wake of their disastrous mission. Abandoned by their masters, these wild dogs linger in the woods, most of them injured, half starving, and all the more vicious for it. 

But that makes them careless and Lara tracks them easily. 

Nearly a dozen men, still armed, stalking about the ruins of an abandoned village. 

They never see her coming.

\--

After, Lara finds the girl in a makeshift hut at the edge of camp. Blessedly fully dressed, utterly untouched but for the angry bruise peeking out from under her hairline, and the twin tracks of tears that cut through the dirt matted on her cheeks. God, she can't be more than fourteen. Lara swallows her remaining rage, un-gags and unties the girl, and takes that small, trembling body into her arms. Then she holds her tight until the sobs that catch in the girl’s throat finally fade into little hiccuping gasps.

“Come now, you’re alright.” Lara says, trying to bring forth a smile, but she knows she fails. The incident has shaken her as well. She’d thought all the Trinity soldiers dead, or dying. But to find so many still alive… How many more could be hiding in these hills? 

Tomorrow then, she will hunt, and she won’t rest until she’s killed them all. 

But for now, Lara wipes the fresh tears from the girl’s cheeks, and says in a tone she hopes is soothing; “Let’s get you home, shall we?”

\--

As she takes the girl long way around towards the village, wanting to spare her the view of her kidnappers bodies, Lara speaks to fill the ever growing chasm of guilt sinking into her chest. She tells the girl of her other adventures, anything far from here. She speaks of tombs raided on an island off the coast of Japan. Tells of her manor, and the broken state of her home, her halfhearted hope of repairing it and how she finds herself far too attached to the tree currently growing in through the torn down wall of her foyer to do anything about it. 

And, quietly, she tells of a girl she once loved, a girl she once _saved,_ and how she misses her every single day. How they haven’t spoken since. 

In the end, Lara doesn’t realize just how much blood she’s covered in until she’s returned the girl to her father’s waiting arms, and is pulled aside by a worried mother that checks her over frantically for wounds that are not there. Lara pulls away, says she’s fine, politely declining the invitation to dinner, and allows herself only one final look at the girl. Her young face is crushed against her father’s chest as they both clutch each other, shoulders heaving with relieved sobs.

Lara turns away, and does not look back. 

\--

The makeshift hut at the far edge of the village, close the roaring waterfall is what Lara calls home, for now. It’d been rundown at first, but she’d refused to take any of the intact shelters for her own, unable to stand the thought of families going cold for her sake. Rebuilding it took time, the villagers helped her despite her insistence that they need not waste their resources. But in the end they proved just as stubborn as she. 

It’s a humble place, barely more than a bed covered in furs, with a furnace against the stone wall, and a large basin to bathe in. But it’s lovely for what it is. The scent of fresh pine in air, the chill of freshly fallen snow. Lara shoves her exhausted body past the threshold, lighting the furnace to heat the water in the tub. Someone must’ve filled it for her during the day, another kindness she is not worthy of. Another gesture of gratitude, undeserved. She kicks off her boots, takes the fur from her shoulders, and finally allows herself to glance down at the gore soaked across her chest.

“Ugh.” How much longer must she do this? How much more blood must she spill to feel even an ounce of reprieve? Her guilt continues to be all consuming, she cannot take pride in saving the girl because she is the reason Trinity is even here. The sigh that leaves her rattles at the edges as her armor comes off, piece by piece, the metal falling to the floor until she’s down to the blue weave of her Henley, a frustrated groan caught in her throat when she finds just how much blood has seeped into the fabric, staining it dark, a wet patch of red clinging to her stomach when she pulls it away.

Her little tub is altogether too small to truly sink into, the water starting off frigid as the furnace devours a log of wood, and slowly heating as she scrubs and scrubs away, until the water becomes a swirl of diluted Earth and blood, and too hot for her to linger in any longer. 

Nude, with aching joints and a rather stinging cut on her thigh that she hadn’t realized was there, Lara steps out of the water, wrapping a worn cloth around herself.

That’s when the door bursts open.

Lara’s body reacts on instinct, the is floor cold beneath her as she dodge rolls towards the bed, hands under the pillow, gripping her pistol and aiming it at the door in the span of a heartbeat. She gasps, however, only managing to take her finger off the trigger at the last split second before the squeeze, when Sofia’s glacier blue eyes narrow onto her. 

“Sofia? What is it? What’s wrong?” 

The other woman closes the door without looking at it, the heavy groan of wood trembling though the foundations of the little hut. Sofia steps deeper into her small space without a word, without invitation, her expression all intense focus. And Lara thinks, _finally._

Finally, the other shoe has dropped.

Finally, someone has come for revenge. 

And as Sofia comes towards her all purpose in her stride, Lara lowers her gun and loosens her jaw, waiting for the blow. It will hurt, no doubt, Sofia is not one for gentle kitten punches or a backhand. She will strike true, and Lara will take it, because she deserves that and more. She knows this, down to the marrow, and yet _still_ she cannot keep her treacherous mouth silent. “Sofia, I-”

Her apology is silenced, cut off but a rough hand at the back of her neck, pulling her forward and suddenly Sofia is right in her space, her lips crushed against Lara’s own. 

The kiss, if it could even be called that, is hard, _deeply_ aggressive. A mashing of mouths that Lara barely has the chance to properly react to, barely able to decide whether or not to kiss back, before it’s gone, and she’s pulling in air like she hasn’t breathed in a century. The world spins, her throat thick, adrenaline waking up every last nerve, and she struggles to focus.

“Sorry,” Sofia says in a tone that is all roughness, with an edge of something Lara’s never heard from her before. Uncertainty, perhaps? Regret? Sofia looks away, and Lara is struck by her all over again, how intensely beautiful she is, this warrior before her, jagged and rough to the touch. “I should’ve asked,” Sofia says, jaw clenched, fists, clenched. “I shouldn’t have assumed-”

And now it’s Lara’s turn to reach for her, cupping her cheeks and pulling that gaze back. Registering only the widening surprise in those intense eyes of hers, before kissing her. Just as hard, just as desperate. They fall into it, meeting each other truly, properly, tongues stroking across one another, tasting each other with a ferocity that Lara hadn’t realized was within her. 

They tear at each other, her hair is tugged free of its ponytail, their lips parting for breath as her makeshift towel flutters to the ground, and she is bare to the night, to the warrior, with her blood singing in her veins, throbbing between her legs. Sofia looks at her, eyes a slow trail down, down, and back up again. Her pupils dilate. 

It’s the only warning Lara receives.

She falls back onto the bed of furs with a gasp, pushed gently enough for one such as Sofia, who follows her down, and Lara is parting her legs for her, reaching with greedy hands for the leathers at Sofia’s shoulders, pulling her in closer. Kissing her again.

And Lara knows she’ll hate herself for this, come morning. Wasn’t it enough that she was the catalyst for all this death and destruction? _How is this possible?_ She wants desperately to ask the woman before her, watching breathless as she strips herself down to the skin, the feel of it against hers _divine_. _How is it that you can desire me, after all I’ve done to you and yours? How is it that your lips are what presses to my neck now, and not a blade?_

What would Jacob think, to know that Lara, after already taking so much from all of them, after taking his _life_ , is now taking his daughter to bed? He’d despise her, surely. But, god help her, she can’t stop herself. She _wants_ so badly, so deeply. She wants this woman before her, and she wants to be _wanted_ in return. If the price for that is another heavy stone of grief to carry in her pocket then, fine, she can handle a little extra weight. 

After all, what’s one more thing to feel guilty about?

\--

“How much longer will you be staying?”

Lara can’t help the breath of incredulous laughter. It’s the first thing Sofia says to her as she comes down from her high, the first words other than moans of her name and demands to go faster, or rougher, or surprisingly, gentler. “Are you that eager to be rid of me?” Lara teases, all grins as she lays on her side, propping her cheek up against her fist. 

Sofia lays on her back, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic, and Lara carefully doesn’t look at the curve of her breasts, lest she be distracted all over again. Those glacier eyes meet hers, all ice, blue and white. “I didn’t say that. I was just...curious.”

“Right. Well,” Lara shifts atop the furs, scooting closer, her thigh brushes Sofia’s, both of them still slick with sweat and come. The scent of them both lingering heavy in the air. “However long it takes, I suppose. However long I’m needed."

“...And after?”

“After?” Lara shrugs as best as she can. “I’ll go home. Resume my hunt for Trinity.” She feels far away for a moment when she says, “And follow them to the ends of the Earth if I have to.”

“Sounds fun.” There’s an an excited, almost bloodthirsty edge in Sofia’s voice that Lara grins at.

“You could come with me, you know.” And she says it without thinking, the words gone from her lips before she can stop them. 

Thankfully, blessedly, Sofia must think it all a part of their teasing pillow talk, because she doesn’t seem quite as offended as Lara would’ve guessed when she says; “You know I can’t do that.”

And Lara know she should drop it there. Move on to some other topic. Or perhaps even better, climb atop all that glorious, warm skin, and taste her again. Instead, of course, she says. “I can help you, you know. Help your people find a new life. Bring them into the modern age.” 

Sofia’s brows go up with her surprise, as if she also were expecting Lara to drop the subject, then her eyes narrow. “What good will that do?”

“Well,” She swallows the weight in her throat. “For one, less of your people will suffer during the harsh winters.”

“We lost no-one to the cold the last five winters in a row.”

Lara licks her lips. “Starvation will be eradicated.”

“We do not starve. Each woman, man, and child eats their fill. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The laugh Lara gives is all nerves, especially since Sofia’s gone a bit stiff with pride, defensive of her people and her way of life. 

Lara wishes she could go back just five minutes, right to the end of the crescendo, when her mind was blissfully blank and her voice was nothing but soft cries of pleasure. “Erm...Air...conditioning?” And vaccines. Though likely not necessary as isolated as they are. 

“And if we go, what then? What will our lives be like?” 

The problem, she finds, is that Sofia’s _is_ taking all of this seriously, and that in turn that has Lara thinking about it. Truly thinking about it. The first thing she considers, hilariously enough, are taxes. They’ll have to pay taxes, won’t they? They’ll have to learn a whole new way of life. Turn in their bows and arrows for shopping carts, the beauty and majesty of the mountain for the dregs of London and it’s constant downpours and dirt. The children could adapt, sure. But what of the adults? The elderly? She thinks of Nadia’s grandparents, finally reunited. What will Lara do? Just throw them all onto an airplane to jolly old London with no passports, no paperwork, no official identities or countries of origin?

It’d be an absolute nightmare. 

And where would they live? What would the government do with all of them? Stick them all in tents or short term housing? Would she be able to claim them? ...She could give them all rooms at her broken down manor. Have them live in a house that’s always been too big for her, filling the countless corridors with life and voices. ...Could they, perhaps, be happy there? 

But...Aren’t they already happy _here_? 

Is this even her choice to make?

No. It’s Sofia’s. And she deserves the truth.

“Horrible, probably.”

Sofia’s chapped lips quirk, not quite a smile, less than a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

Lara looks at her, at the curves of her scarred body, at her warriors hands, and knows that she is meant for only this. For leading her people, protecting them, defending the land of her ancestors. It is a skill she has honed into a fine art, surpassing even her father’s countless years. There’s a hardness to her, a strength, that Jacob lacked. It’s probably why she’s still alive, and Lara suddenly pities whatever moronic immigration officer would try to separate Sofia from her people.

He’d probably be stabbed in the eye for his trouble, and Sofia would be labeled a murderer, a savage, causing an international incident, then be put away for life.

The more she thinks about it, the more Lara knows that it’s impossible, and the heavier the weight is in her throat. She doesn’t know what to say, instead she shifts closer to Sofia, closer, until she can feel firm nipples brushing her chest, can see the star field of freckles that scatters across all of Sofia’s bare skin. A long, muscular leg slots in between hers, Sofia closing the distance between them. Their breath picks up in unison, an electric charge of potential prickling across her skin at the parting of their kiss. God, Sofia is so wildly beautiful like this, with her hair mussed and undone of its braids, a cascade of unruly fire over her shoulders. Her full lips still swollen from their frantic kisses, and Lara shudders, recalling the way those lips felt against her, the way Sofia's calloused fingers felt inside of her. They match, all too well, one warrior to another, and Lara feels fresh grief blooming in her heart, for the inevitable loss of her. 

Those sharp eyes narrow onto her, the same shade as the caverns of ice that lead to Kitezh, and pin her with their stare. “Whatever it is you’re feeling guilty about now, stop. I choose this. I _want_ this.”

“No, that isn’t it.” Lara says immediately, because this she does not question. Sofia is too strong willed to have come here for any other reason than her own desire. She would not sleep with Lara out of some undeserved thankfulness, or halfhearted obligation. Saving the girl, helping her people might’ve been a catalyst to this, but it is not the reason for it.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I was just thinking…” Quiet, Lara. She tells herself, biting her lip against the words. Quiet, for once in your damn life. Don’t say it. 

...But the words spill from her regardless, as stubborn and reckless as she’s always been. “I was just thinking, that I’ll miss you.”

When, Lara can’t help but ask herself, as Sofia goes silent and wide eyed, when will you stop being such a _selfish_ _brat_? 

All at once Sofia sits up, the dustings of a flush coloring her cheeks and Lara can only stare at her in the firelight, wanting so badly to lean up, to kiss her. To press her lips against the soft curve of her breasts, take a hardened bud of a nipple into her mouth, gently, like she’s learned Sofia likes, and draw her back down into the furs to make love to her again.

“You won’t have to miss me, if you stay.”

Dammit.

Lara sighs, and regrets the sound _immediately_ because Sofia goes utterly _stiff_ above her, and that lovely face hardens into an impenetrable mask. “Forget I said anything.” And she’s moving to get off the bed, legs falling over the sides of the frame. And Lara knows if she lets her go now, she will regret it for the rest of her life.

“Sofia, wait! _Please_.” And she’s grasping the other woman’s wrist, only to have it wrenched away. But her instincts are fast too, and she’s already grasping it again, but gently, loosely. She won’t trap Sofia here, she couldn’t, but at the very least she could apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sofia looks away from her, already half off the bed, and Lara discovers on her back a million more freckles that she’d missed. The clusters of them are mesmerizing, they look as though they’ve been painted onto the hard planes of muscle. She wants to taste them, wants to stroke her fingers over them. She doesn’t want this to end, not yet. So Lara takes a chance, knowing full well the best she’s like to get is an elbow to her face for the trouble, and leans in, pressing her lips at the dip of Sofia’s spine, right between her shoulder blades. “Please, stay.” She whispers once again, her fingertips trailing over the curve of Sofia’s hips. 

And absurdly, Lara almost regrets the words as she says them. There is something distinctly uncomfortable, off putting, in a seeing a woman as powerful as Sofia acquiesce without a fight. It is the sort of display of trust that Lara knows she does not deserve, and yet is resolved to do all within her power to be worthy of it. To honor it. 

The moment Sofia settles back onto the furs, Lara takes control. And she acts in perfect contrast to Sofia’s rough touches earlier. Instead she kisses her slowly, thoroughly, her tongue stroking across the other woman’s. She tastes of nothing in particular...at least, nothing fanciful like fresh berries or the forest, instead she tastes _human,_ she tastes _alive_. It is intensely good. Lara’s hands map out all the plains of her body, committing them to sense memory. The curve of her breasts, the dip in her abdomen, the coarse red hairs of her sex. 

Sofia is utterly unshaven, all of her, from her cunt, to her legs, to her armpits. And Lara finds that she _likes_ it, with so much desire that it surprises her. Sofia’s body, its hard plains and scars, the endless array of freckles, stretch marks, and hair, are all _unbearably sexy_ to her. This culture, these women, have no need for misogynistic beauty standards. They do not ritualistically starve or mutilate themselves for an impossible ideal. They’d likely find even the _concept_ of shaving to be absurd, especially in the winter months. Sofia is a woman wholly confident in herself and her body. 

And there’s this second, this heartbeat, as she trails her lips down Sofia's body, as she sinks her tongue into the wet heat of Sofia’s cunt, that Lara wishes that she were the type of person who could let everything go. The type of person who could stay here and hunt elk for the rest of her days, protecting the village from outsiders, or wolves, or bears. All while building bridges and thatching rooftops, gathering food, and helping to lead these people to prosperity. In this place where the word prosperity doesn’t mean money or acclaim, but the promise of new life, of family, and the hope for a bountiful harvest. 

She surfaces for air, her tongue tingling, the scent of Sofia all around her, heady, dizzying, wet on her cheeks. She climbs up the flushed heat of Sofia’s skin and kisses her, _hard._ “I can’t stay.” Lara whispers when they part, breathless, sinking her fingers between the slick folds of Sofia’s cunt, plunging deep inside of her. Their lips meet again, all tongues and desperation, her own breath picking up, her own arousal throbbing insistent, desperate between her legs. “I can’t, as much as I want to. As much as I want _you._ ” 

And it’s true. She does want Sofia. She’s wanted her from the moment they met on that snow drenched mountain. That sudden rush of fear and desire jolting through her, the knowledge of the arrow pointing at her heart. The mysterious huntresses eyes glacier cold, her aim true. At that moment Sofia was ready to kill her without a heartbeat’s hesitation, and Lara knew this, and she had _wanted_ her. 

“But…” She whispers, made breathless by the memory. “I’d grow bored, we both know it. My place is out _there,_ Sofia.” She crooks her fingers, searching deeper, desperate to make her cry out. “And yours is here, with your people.” She nips gently at Sofia’s lower lip, the thrust of her fingers sharpening, and the woman beneath her is arching, near writhing, breath after ragged breath, moan after moan, hot on Lara’s cheek. The stinging pain of Sofia’s blunted nails clutch at her back, egging her on, and Lara can feel it. She’s close. “Even if there is a part of me that truly wants to stay.”

And she pictures it for a moment, coming home to walls that scent of fresh pine, to a roaring fire, and the embrace of a beautiful woman. Making love to each other each and every night until they’re spent.  
  
It’s a beautiful fantasy, but that’s all it can ever be.

Lara’s fingers move faster, in firm circles at Sofia’s clit, the sort of direct stimulation that has the other woman gasping, every last inch of her growing rigid, trembling. “I can’t stay, but I’ll come back. I’ll come back to see you, to kiss you and taste you and make love to you...”

Sofia’s voice begins its crescendo, a litany of cries that fills her little hut, that has goosebumps prickling down Lara’s arms with each call of her name in that lovely, rough voice.

“I promise.” And she whispers this with all the conviction in her heart, into Sofia’s ear as the other woman arches into her, clutching her, lips parted and her eyes a shock of lighting blue as she comes. 

\--

Not much changes, after. Lara still continues to try and make amends, the villagers try to rebuild their home. The only difference now is that her nights are filled with Sofia, with the clutch of her warm body against the furs, the taste of her lingering on Lara’s tongue all day. 

Time begins to blur, each night so like the one before that they exist only as snapshots in Lara’s mind. Their conversations between bouts of lovemaking the only way she can determine the difference between days anymore. 

“My father’s loss aches,” Sofia had said to her one night, while her nails gently scratched up and down the skin of Lara’s stomach. “But I’ve felt this pain before. My mother died centuries ago but I still-’

“Wait, _what_?” Lara had looked down at her, incredulous. “But you can’t be much older than me you-” And then hit her, confirmed by the slow curling of Sofia’s lips. 

“I’m the daughter of the ‘prophet’, his blood flows through my veins.”

“How..? Sofia…” This is incredible. _Fascinating,_ and she had to ask. “How old _are_ you?”  
  
“Old.” A smirk, then, something more subdued as Sofia looked away. “I lost count a while ago. But unlike my father I do age so, perhaps not entirely immortal.”

“An extended lifespan….” Lara breathed, unable to do anything but stare.

“But the divine source is gone so, maybe not anymore.”

“...You…” And she couldn’t believe it, scanned her eyes up and down a body she’s learned more intimately than any others, even more than _Sam,_ as if it was brand new to her. As if held some clue. “You must have _some_ idea….” 

Sofia had looked down then, at their hands, her palm pressing against Lara’s, warm and calloused and over a _century_ old. “...Nadia. Her great grandmother’s aunt and I were lovers. If that puts it in perspective. But I’d already long since stopped counting by then.”

“But…”

“The villagers measure time by the passing of the seasons. But Father and I counted its passing by the ones we lost to age. The girl you saved, I’ve known all of her bloodline since my birth. At least a half dozen or so came before her. That’s the furthest back I can recall. After a time, everything starts to fade.”

And that thought is its own frozen reminder, shuttering the ignition of excitement beneath her skin. By Sofia’s estimate, she’s over _five hundred_ years old. Perhaps _older_. And if everything starts to fade then maybe...Even she, Lara, will become nothing but a distant wisp of memory. 

Ah but, no, Lara thought, swallowing around the weight in her throat. Sofia will never forget her, how can she? Lara is the woman who destroyed the Divine Source.

Lara is the woman who killed her father. 

“Sofia,” She began voice breaking, overcome with guilt. “I-”

But she’d been cut off by Sofia’s lips, an insistent tongue lapping into her mouth and stealing all her breath. “Hush,” Sofia said, firm, swinging a leg around Lara’s hip and climbing into her lap properly. “No more words. Just fuck me again.” 

\--

And yet despite herself, another night in the midst of lovemaking, she’d let it all slip. Sofia had been insistent after catching the weight of Lara’s guilt where she failed to hide it, and then proceeded to use every underhanded method imaginable to draw it out of her until Lara was a writhing, gasping mess, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

“Damn you, It’s all my fault, is that what you want to-" Her voice broke there, hips rising, grinding against the wonderful callouses of Sofia's finger. _"-oh, oh fuck, Sofia, like that, like that, right there-_.”

“What did you say?” Sophia had asked, eyes narrowing. Her fingers damnably slowing. “What’s your fault?”

“Nothing,” Lara gasped, arching her hips, desperate for friction. “Nothing, nothing, just _move_.”

“No.” And her touch goes maddeningly still, just a strong pressure against Lara’s aching clit, lingering, waiting. “Tell me. What is your fault?”

“Sophia _please_.”

A sharp pinch at her thigh and Lara gasped, affronted. “Ah, hey!” Flustered, she looked into the glacier blue of Sophia’s eyes, catching the twinkle of mischief within them. 

“Tell me.”

“It’s _nothing-_ Ow! Dammit, Sofia!” 

Another pinch, and Sofia has learned her all too well, capable of spurring on her temper far too easily, pinching until Lara had sat up and spat; “All of it, alright? All of it is my fault.” And once the words left her, everything she’d been carrying came tumbling out of her, a great avalanche of emotion with no footing to be found, a sheer rock wall with no grip. 

“Trinity, the Divine Source being destroyed, _Jacob_ -” And her voice broke with the guilt of it. But she needed to keep going, if there were any in this place that could see her for what she is, that will hold her to her crimes, it’s _her_ , Sofia. “I led them here.” 

“ _What_?” Sofia’s eyes had been thunderous, and Lara was quick to respond, heart racing.

“I didn’t mean to! They stole my research, my father’s research, I was finishing it, I was finding clues to the divine source, and then it was stolen from me. That’s how they found you, that’s why I came, to stop them, to protect it. I… _everything_ that’s happened Sofia, all of it, all of the _death._ It’s because of _me.”_

Finally, _finally,_ it’s been said. Finally this weight has been freed. Finally, she was in the hands of the one who could hold her accountable for her crimes. 

She’d waited, breathless, hoping, _begging_ for a strike to her face, for imprisonment, all of her tense with the anticipation of Sophia’s deserved rage. 

Instead, Sofia had just rolled her eyes, _rolled her eyes_ at Lara, like what she’d said was _absurd,_ some fanciful imagining. And the incredulity must’ve shown on her face because Sofia raised both of her eyebrows, and pushed Lara back onto the furs, climbing atop her. 

“You aren’t the first person who’s found us. Trinity isn’t the first who’s attacked us. Defending our home, protecting the Source, it’s why we came here in the first place.” Strong hands had clutched at her thighs, parting them, calloused fingers quickly finding the hardened bud of her clit. All she could do is clutch at the furs, and gasp. 

“But-!”

“No.” Sofia said, with all the finality of a leader who has made her decision. “All things have to end, Lara. My father knew this. If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else,” those eyes had narrowed onto her, and for a beat, looked distant. “Someone worse.”

Before she’d been able to say anything more, Sofia’s second hand joined the first, fingers pressing into her, and all words had been lost to the frantic rush of pleasure.

\--

“I noticed you today.”

Somehow, Sofia always looks deadlier in repose. In the privacy of her own thoughts, Lara likens her to a lioness after a hunt. She lays, gorged and full, the impression of relaxation throughout her long, deadly limbs. If she had a tail, it'd flick lazily back and forth across the furs of Lara's bed. But it's those _eyes_ that give her away, as sharp and alert as ever, always a beat away from another strike, another successful hunt.

It takes effort for Lara to keep her voice neutral. "Oh?"

“You were staring off at the sea, you have been for a few days now.”

“Well," Lara begins, following the path of Sofia's nail as it slides up, up, her hip, then back down again. "The view is rather beautiful.”

"Mm," Those eyes find hers, all too knowing, all too intelligent. It's _astoundingly_ sexy. “No. That wasn't what you were thinking.”

And just like that, Lara knows the jig is up. The secret that she'd hoped to conceal for just a few hours more was never a secret to begin with. “You’re right." Lara exhales a sigh, she looks away, she bites her lips. "...Sofia, I’m sorry but-"

“It’s time, isn't it?" The chestnut brown fur of the bear Lara had felled falls off the curves of Sofia's shoulders as she sits up, all of that glorious skin golden in the firelight before her. Desire is a jolt through her belly, heavy, in her throat. "You're leaving. When?”

"I was going to tell you...Jonah and I called for a pickup and-”

“When?”

Lara swallows, her fingers twitching. “In the morning. ...First thing.”

The curt nod Sofia gives her is not outside the realm of what she'd been expecting, but when she moves to stand, Lara has to physically stop herself from reaching out, and stopping her. "Wait," She says instead, swallowing. "Wait, Sofia, where are you going? I thought..." She trails off, at a loss, biting again at her chapped lower lip. "I thought we agreed?" 

"We did." Sofia's voice is all even tones, and she doesn't _sound_ angry but Lara finds she doesn't know what to make of it. 

"I don't..." She swallows again, and wonders why she's saying anything at all. If Sofia wants to leave, why not just let her? But Lara finds she can't bare the idea of their last interaction being this, making love and a quiet retreat, and silence. She'd wanted...she'd imagined, really, something a little more intense. Something more memorable, a proper goodbye. And she hates that this echoes in her voice, a child's lost dream when she says. "I don't understand."

The last thing Lara ever expected was to see a smile like that on Sofia's lips. No, not just her lips. Her whole face changes with it, all of her hardness, every last sharpened edge carved into place by centuries of violence and survival, clearing with just that one gesture. 

"Trust me."

And Lara is so struck by her, so utterly transfixed that she cannot muster a single word. Sofia opens the door to her little hut, takes one look out at the cold night, and glances over her shoulder at Lara again, with that same, lovely smile. "I'll see you in the morning."

And then she's gone, and for the first time in almost two weeks Lara lays awake in her bed, utterly alone.

\--

The dawn casts beams of light, long and golden and arching through splintered logs that make up the walls of her little cabin. She has not slept, not for a moment. Her limbs are tight from how long she's sat atop her bed, utterly nude, legs pulled to her chest as she watched the fire of her little hearth fade and fade, until it were embers and nothing more.

She dressed, methodically, keeping her thoughts flat as possible. The helicopter is coming, she needs to get over to the soviet installation. Despite trusting pilot, she's determined to do everything in her power to make sure the village remains undetected, and uncontacted, for as long as they choose to. When the last of her pack is full and slung over her shoulder, Lara opens the door, then pauses at threshold. Outside, the village is still asleep. Smoke lazily drifts up out of a far off chimney, hens cluck in their enclosures, birds begin the whispers of their songs overhead, the waterfall rushes, an endless roar that's become background noise to her, as normal and essential as her own breaths.

Lara wonders what will happen to this little cottage of hers at the edge of the village. Then she carefully puts those thoughts away, and walks out into the brisk morning. She doesn't look back. 

Even though a part of her wants to.

\--

Lara isn't expecting the crowd, but she should know better by now than to underestimate the people of Kitezh. One by one, those she'd helped personally offer her parting gifts of trinkets, food, and embraces. The girl she saved wraps a bracelet of softly woven threads entwined with carved beads around Lara's wrist. For protection she'd said with a shy smile.

Nadia nearly tackles her to the ground with the force of her hug, squealing again and again that she'll miss her. And it's enough to get Lara laughing, even just a little, rubbing soothing circles into the babbling woman's back and telling her she'll miss her too. When she pulls back, something heavy catches in her throat when Nadia's grandfather wraps his soft, thin arms about her and squeezes with more strength than she would've thought possible. "Thank you." That whisper fills her eyes with tears that she does not allow to fall.

When he pulls back, when Lara looks at the small crowd of gathered faces she cannot help but to think that this is it. This is goodbye. And this is their last chance to hold her accountable for all that she has done. The Divine Source is gone, and so is Jacob, and it is her fault. And despite everything, a part of her waits for a rain of stones that she knows will never come. 

She'll always be waiting for it, perhaps. But the people before her will not be the ones to cast them.

Lara closes her eyes, and the breath she exhales is a shaking thing. It is a thing of understanding, of acceptance. And when she opens them again, it's to Sofia approaching her. She walks with all the strength of a leader, her eyes that stunning glacier blue, fixing Lara in place. She can't say a word, all she can do is watch, is hold out her hands when Sofia offers her a final parting gift.

The bow is exquisite, masterfully carved by Sofia herself. And Lara pulls off her gloves, one after the other, so that she can run her bare fingertips over the perfectly hewn letters of ancient Byzantine text, reading them aloud in a voice that is little more than breath. "May you strike down your enemies where ever you go." 

Lara bows her head solemnly, in a gesture which she hopes conveys all of her gratitude, and her respect. She knows her voice has taken on a heavier tinge when she says, "Thank you." Their eyes meet again, and Lara wants so badly, so, so badly, to kiss her. Just once more. "I'll keep it with me, always."

The leader before her smirks, in that ever familiar way, mischief bright in her eyes. "See that you do."

"I, erm," Lara swallows, and steadies her breath. "I have something for you, too." She turns for the helicopter, gently, reverently placing the bow atop her seat, and grabbing the small metal briefcase beneath it. Turning, she unlatches it and presents the contents to Sofia. "This is a satellite phone. Think of it, and the antenna, like a sort of radio. Here, if you just," And Nadia is beside her then, holding out her hands so that Lara can set the briefcase upon them. 

She takes out the phone, and presses the on button. The screen lights up, some of the other villagers stepping closer with a curiosity that has Lara needing to suppress a smile. It's made harder by the expression of utter seriousness on Sofia's face when she says, "How does it work?"

"It relies on the sun for its energy. So if it ever stops working, just put this reflective side, right here?" She points to the back, "in a sunny spot for a few hours, and it should be good to go. My number is the first one on there. The second is Jonah's. You might have to," She chuckles, "aim the antenna a little until you find the right spot to get a signal but, once you do it should work just fine."

Sofia looks up at her again as she passes it over, their fingers brush, and Lara cannot find it in herself to pull her hands away first. "If you ever need _anything_ Sofia," She says, swallowing around the press of emotion in her throat. "even...even if you just want to _talk..._ Then you can call me, anytime."

A beat passes where they linger in each other’s space, where Lara bids a final farewell to those beautiful, striking eyes. To that lovely little smirk that plays across those chapped, full lips which part to say in a voice she finds she’ll miss _terribly._ "I just might."

Words failing her, Lara nods her head, and turns for the helicopter. The blades begin to whirr as it starts up, the old soviet ruins filled with sound. So much so, that she almost doesn't hear her name being called out. 

Lara looks back just in time for Sofia's hand to grasp her arm, and she's nearly yelping as she's tugged back, stumbling, into a kiss that's so gentle it makes her gasp. She hadn't expected...hadn't thought someone like _Sofia_ would do something like _kiss her goodbye_ , especially not in front of her _people_. But here she is, and here are those lips that have become so familiar, and Lara laughs against them, before properly kissing her back.

Behind them the villagers erupt in cheers. Or at least Nadia does, and behind her Jonah is cheering as well, whooping loud and excited, his voice echoing throughout the snow topped mountains. 

When they finally part, Sofia's eyes are all bright glacier blue, and full of teasing mischief. "Come back when you need that bow restrung."

And Lara grins with all of her heart. "Yes, I just might."

-END-

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter! https://twitter.com/_XenXen_


End file.
